


High

by DanaKMulderScully (mulder_itsme)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Cancer Arc, F/M, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1318984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulder_itsme/pseuds/DanaKMulderScully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Smoking dope wasn't something the very correct Dr. Scully would do, but there was always a first time for everything." Cancer Arc. Once Shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on Oct 13, 2010.

Mulder sits by her side, the dark night sky covering them as they lay on the cold lawn. He watches her as she plays with a joint in her hand, thinking as to when she will go through with it. As a doctor, he understands her stance in the subject. Smoking dope wasn't something the very correct Dr. Scully would do, but there was always a first time for everything.

She watched the dark sky, the small paper stick dancing across her fingers. "Have you ever done this before?" she asked her eyes never making direct contact with that of her partner's.

"A few times, around high school. I was still coping to the loss of Samantha. I got around it at some point, realized I didn't need it." Mulder softly smiled, watching as his partner, licked her lips processing her thoughts. He didn't think she knew how much she did that, and how much that simple habit had affected his life. "What about you?"

He observed as she retrieved the lighter from her jeans, not yet flicking it on. "Once. It was a really long time ago and I barely had a puff." She laughed softly before continuing, "I did still take my mother's cigarettes in the evening. I think it was the weight of conscience that didn't let me have the drag like a normal teen."

"Makes sense." he answered, trying to make it seem like he understood. He did. It was just hard to show it in words. It was always hard. Words always seemed to escape him around her.

She flicked the small gas-filled container on, the light emitting from the small frame illuminating her face. Her pale skin contrasting with the deep dark circles that had resided under her eyes for a few weeks now. She let the drag burn, taking the first puff, which before finishing, had already gotten her to cough slightly. She took another swig, this one coming out more naturally, than the first.

Mulder watched her cautiously. He knew the effects took a little longer to be felt, but he could swear he could see her relaxing. "How do you feel?" She offered the small wrap of burning leaves to her partner, to whom just stared at her actions.

"It just feels uncomfortable to me is all. A grown woman, a doctor nonetheless, doing 'marijane'. No matter the reason, I feel ridiculous." she declared, as he reluctantly took the drag out of her hands, swiftly taking a puff. She gave him a soft smile as he blew the smoke out into the night sky, before she continued, "Not even if it means taking the pain this goddamn cancer is giving me away…"

He felt his heart constrict in his chest. He had lost count on how long she had been battling the numerous chaotic cells in her body. But watching her like this, hearing her uttering words of surrender, he felt like they had to keep going and yet there was nothing to do.

It had been 3 weeks into the chemotherapy treatment. She had started out strong and willing, but all that had faded as her immune system began to fail. She always appeared tired and weak; her hair had started to thin out, something that he knew upset her to the core, even though she said nothing. In the course of this time, she had moved back in with her mother, whom took care of her remaining daughter's every need. Her skin had paled out, and she had already begun loosing weight, due to the continuous nausea she had been feeling since the beginning of treatment.

That was what had started all this.

Her oncologist had prescribed a few drugs for her on going nausea and pain, but nothing had seemed to work. Last thing he had come up with was the idea of a more natural herbal therapy: marijuana. Of course, Scully did not condone the idea at first, she'd much rather continue her unending nausea than use a hallucinogenic as a benefit. Nevertheless, after time, she realized there was no use in her stubbornness.

Mulder had agreed to take the narcotic with her, so long as she took it herself, and here they were.

It was probably the fact that he felt he was responsible for the disease that was now taking Scully's life in the first place. It was his fault. He's quest for the truth had let them both to this, and the dues were now being paid with her life.

Sometimes he thought it was more him the one that needed the marijuana prescription than her…

She laid on her back, staring at the dark sky, handing the last portion of the joint to Mulder. With a quick full inhale, the remaining fag disappeared and he flicked it off before it burned him. He looked at Scully as she rested on the grass. He watched as she tried to focus, the drugs effects now taking a toll on her.

He lay next to her, his head propped upon his left arm, as he contemplated her, "You alright?"

She vaguely smiled as her eyes kept roaming through the skies, "Yeah…"

"Alright…" he smiled solemnly, pushing a lonely strand of hair off her face.

She caught his eyes with hers, staring into the dark hazel that resided in them, her eyes never leaving his. "Mulder…"

"Yes…" He caught her gaze, she was penetrating him. She licked her lips again. That little habit of hers…

He swallowed, a flush of warmness covering his whole body, inch by inch, as she continued staring deep at him. "Scully…?"

She redirected her eyes to his mouth, and back to his eyes. She re-licked her lips, as she felt his warm breath against her own mouth. She tipped her chip up, her mouth closer to his, but not quite. He hovered over her, analyzing the situation. They both might have not been able to think straight, but the effects of the drug weren't that high enough to not let him process.

He could process thought, but manage motor control was a whole other situation.

Her teeth made contact with his bottom lip, softly nipping the pouting flesh, sucking it lightly before letting it go. Her fingers ran through his hair, gripping softly at the brown stands that made their way through her digits. He deepened the action, his mouth opening in one slow movement as he devoured her upper lip. It wasn't long before the tender act turned into a frantic carnal despair, his body weight pressed against hers as their tongues dwelled insatiably.

…..

Inside the kitchen, next to the patio window, stood Margaret Scully, watching over her daughter and her partner as they got intimate, for what had to be their first time, on her outside lawn. If she didn't know any better, she would have just figured the softly tangled bodies were that of teenagers on a summer night. How much she would have loved for that assumption to be true, for her daughter to be young and care free once again…

Ever since she heard the diagnosis, it had been like going through hell.

To only think she might loose her last daughter, was devastating. She remembered how dark and cold everything had been with Melissa's passing, and how Dana had blamed herself for her loss. She thought she wouldn't go through something like that ever again, that it was a once in a life time chance…but here she was.

She didn't know what was worse; The act of loosing a loved one quick and without warning, never getting to say goodbye, or little by little, watching them in agony and not being able to help them at all. It was all torture…

She continued to gaze at the tousled bodies on her backyard, admiring the tenderness and passion her daughter's partner inflicted on her. Since the very beginning, he had been there. Visited her after every chemotherapy. Made sure to get rid of her stubborn nature when it was imperative she did.

If that wasn't love, she didn't know what else was.

But of course, love could also be camouflaged by guilt, and although Fox Mulder had always blamed himself of her daughter's, for lack of a better word, well being, she had always sensed the sincerity of his feelings towards Dana…even before the incident…even before he knew himself it was love.

Bill walked into the kitchen, watching as his mother lingered at the window, languidly staring outside. He swiftly joined her only to be surprised by the sight.

"Jesus, mom. That guy is even sicker than I thought..." His eyebrow was furrowed, the scene in front of him just seaming insulting. "Let me handle this…"

"Bill! Don't you dare!" Margaret silently demanded, before he could open the back door. "Leave them."

"Mom, how could you let something like this go on? He's merely just taking advantage of her, of her state! He gives her this damn disease and then toys with her, like if she were just an object…and you humor him?"

"Enough!" she glared at her son. "I have had enough of your ramblings about Mulder. You can't possibly think he himself gave Dana her illness. How could you even say such a thing? Have you not been here the last couple of months? What that man has been through with her? With us!" her eyes began to fog; tears lining up at the rims. "You may think what you want Bill, but for your sister's sake, could you at least act like you can respect the man for once? Just for once…"

Bill didn't speak a word. He let go of the knob watching as his mother sat at the dinning table.

Margaret knew her son meant well. That even if his actions seemed to be selfish, they were truly because of his overzealous protection of his sister…his only little sister. Sometimes, Bill just got carried away in his feelings…a not so typical Scully family trait, that seemed to emerge in the most unplanned of times.

He joined her, sitting at the chair next to her. "I'm-I'm sorry…I just…"

"I know, Bill. I know" she softly quipped. "We're all scared of loosing her. We just can't let ourselves get carried away…"

….

His mouth continued his zealous urge to osculate her flesh, as if kissing her this passionately would make things better…make everything go away…say all the apologies that he had not yet been able to say…pour himself in her without having to give an extensive explanation of his feelings, because the truth was there was no way to describe them.

She hummed, her vibrations slipping back to his body, as her hands continued to grip at his hair and neckline. He started to descend, his mouth now positioned at her exposed neck, kissing and softly nipping the malleable flesh that resided there. She moaned, sighing his name right along with it, her eyes rolling back into her scull.

"Scully…" he barely whispered against her heaving chest, his hands clutching her sides, not wanting to let her go. "Oh, g-mmm…" her warm skin muffling his lips as she pressed upwards to him. He watched her as she smiled softly, her eyes once again wondering the skies.

"I'm dizzy…" She uttered hazily her hands gripping at his shoulders.

He stopped, a wave of concern and embarrassment washing over him. He had gotten carried away. _'Damn it'_ , he uttered inwardly as he searched for her eyes, his face merely inches away from hers. "Scully…you alright?" His palm found its place at the side of her cheek.

Her eyes were lost, and a small silly smile was plastered on her face before answering, "I feel dizzy…I can't…its all moving."

"We should get you inside. C'mon…" Mulder managed to get on his feet, taking a hold of one of her arms as he swung it across his back, and then slipped his hands around her back and under her knees. He carried her light body to the kitchen door. She was so light. So light, he wondered how she was still alive. He felt a pang in his chest once again, as her hands clutched semi-tightly around his neck.

…

Margaret watched as he carried her daughter inside, holding the back door open. "Everything alright?" She asked noticing Dana's vacant expression, as her daughter pressed her forehead against the nape of Mulder's neck.

"She's dizzy…thought it better for her to settle inside." Mulder answered sheepishly.

"Of course…" Margaret stated, her hands smoothing some of her daughter's hair off her face. "You go ahead, take her to her bedroom. I'll be right up with some tea for that nausea."

Before he headed to the stairs, Mulder shared what was a quick glare coming right from Bill who sat across the dinning table. He only ducked his head submissively, holding onto Scully's small body while she gripped on his crisp button down shirt. Bill said nothing, only on looked at his sister's carrier, her body seeming to disappear within his embrace.

When he got to the bedroom, he softly placed Scully on the bed. Her grip on him loosened, rolling on to her back. He grabbed the blankets, draping them over her body, her eyes dilated and still roaming.

"Alright, Scully. You should get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." he then half cupped her face, kneeling down to place a kiss to her forehead. He departed from her, but not before taking in her scent one more time, and gazing at her tiered frame. His insides shifted painfully. "Goodnight."

He got up, walking towards the opening of the bedroom door and as he reached the light switch she began, "So much time…"

"What?" Mulder whipped his head back, watching as she contemplated nothing.

"We lost so much time…"

Mulder made his way back to the bed, sitting at the edge beside her. "Scully?"

"Because we were too professional. Because I didn't want to loose my job or get re-assigned to a new division. Because I cared too much what people would say…for what? Now I'm dying… all I have is lost time…" her voice cracked, tears flooding her eyes as she looked straight at him.

"No, no…don't say that. That's not true, Scully." He watched her break, right before his eyes.

"It is. And there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it. I can't fight this anymore…I-I'm so tired."

"No. Don't. Don't give up. Not just yet. We still haven't finished all the chemo, and you're on your drugs…I know it's hard, but you'll get better. And you'll be back on your feet in no time."

"Don't kid yourself Mulder. I'm a doctor. I know what's going on. I'm not getting any better and I don't want to deal with this anymore."

"Scully…" He was at a loss of words. He couldn't lie to her. He couldn't make her better. She did know what was going on, if there was anyone who knew, it was her. But he didn't want to accept it, at least not yet.

He felt as her hand gripped at his, his eyes found hers. "Mulder, I'm sorry."

He gasped surprised at her choice of words. "What?"

He breathing grew labored, tears now flowing softly down her cheeks. "Oh God...Mulder I lo-"

"Shhhh." he silenced her before she said anything. He didn't know, but he was trembling himself. He couldn't let her. He wouldn't… "No, Scully…none of that. No goodbyes. Not now. Not yet…"

Scully let go, no longer holding her tears, her stoic nature broken down. He held her, practically lifting her off the bed as he pressed her body against his. Her arms grasped at his shoulder blades, as she trembled against him, soft sobs being muffled by his shoulder.

"You're stronger than this, Scully. So much stronger. And I know you're tiered and that you just want to give out, but I can't let you…I won't." He pulled from her, looking into her somber gaze, as he pressed his forehead onto hers. He wanted her to listen to what he was about to say, and he still wasn't sure if her state was still being induced by the drug she had just smoked. "I'll come by tomorrow to see you…We'll go out. Alright? And we'll get some fresh air. 'Kay?"

Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to return his gaze, but it was as if though they had a hundred pound weights attached to them. She held on to him, trying to keep consciousness. "Okay…" She managed to word out breathlessly.

Mulder began laying himself on the bed, Scully's body pressed against his, till he reached the firm mattress. He loosened his grip and placed her against the pillows, he continued to hover over her for a while, observing the tear tracks that graced her face. His hand met her humid face; fingers caressing, trying to erase the salted trails. Leaning down, his lips replaced his digits, lingering there as he felt her exhale softly.

He pulled back watching her, her eyes closed, her grip on him loosened. "Rest…" he uttered softly, as he gave her one more longing look, as she slipped into slumber.

He grabbed his jacket , the unbearable tightening in his chest now tugging at his lungs. He reached the door frame, coming face to face with Margaret, tea on her hands, face stricken with fear and hurt as she looked straight unto Mulder.

She probably heard. She heard everything he said, everything that happened. At this point he didn't care. He didn't want to loose anymore time…

"Mrs. Scully, I told Sc-Dana that I…"

"Of course. It does her good to get out. Fox, its late, you should just stick around, take the guest bedroom."

"No, it's alright. I should be heading back. I, uh, I'll be here first thing in the morning."

"Alright." She solemnly smiled. "Goodnight Fox, take care."

He continued his way down stairs and as he reached the end, he found himself with Bill. He didn't want to argue. He wasn't in the mood, but as he faced Scully's brother, all that resided in his face was a lugubrious expression. He seemed sympathetic, an appearance Mulder had never seen him carry. He looked at him inquisitively, waiting for the moment he changed into his protective mode and attacked him with insults…it never happened.

He watched closely, as he extended his hand courteously at him, "Goodnight, Mulder. See you in the morning."

Mulder took his hand, and smiled with whatever was left in him. " 'Night."

The walk to his car was the longest he ever took. He opened the car door, sat inside and remained still. He opted to turn the car on, but as his keys slid in the ignition, he froze. The guilt and pain hitting him like a lighting bolt, constricting him of anything.

He was so mad. Why? He couldn't do anything. Why her? Watching her in pain seemed like going through hell and living there for all eternity. It's my fault.

Mulder pounded the steering wheel with all he had, soundless sobs taking over him like a tidal wave. The pain he felt on his hand didn't amount to ache he felt for his partner. It was as if though he wanted to feel the pain she was going through, because for him, it was he who deserved the pain, not her.

Tears flowed down to his mentis, his chest convulsing for air. He didn't want to believe that she was going to die, that she was actually giving up. She wasn't giving up, not on his clock. He wouldn't let her; she would get through this just as she had done so many times before.

He recomposed himself, blindly wiping rogue tears as he watched Scully's bedroom light flicker off. He headed home to rest as well.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and he as sure as hell, wouldn't be loosing any more time…


End file.
